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   "Lea, do you know anything about steel?"

   "Not really, not outside of a faulty crumple zone design case last year.   You learn a little bit about everything doing this.   It's like a white collar pawn shop."

   It was the process that mattered over the words.   Meghan had become absent in her own body once again, alone always in a secret world inside.   There she sat on the edge of her bed, three of her hands retained in her lap, bundled together by gravity with thighs sloping upwards to her knees.   The remaining bottom set and one other had not found the spare room, and had spilled out over time to rest on the crumpled bed sheets.

   Lea had remained overnight, getting fits of sleep on the sofa in an abandoned t-shirt of Gary's as she had not expected to need anything of her own.   No one had told her anything about this tendency to withdraw, and it bewildered and frustrated her to no end, twin feelings she had become quite familiar over the last eighteen hours.   She wanted to believe that it was just heartbreak, and a return to routine would snap her out of it.   However, no response came when Lea asked about breakfast, or anything when it finally arrived, or when she spoke about stepping out for a new, clean outfit.   Lea had just given up, and in defeat joined Meghan on the bed, her own feet dangling off into space next to Meghan's planted firm, and stared out that same window with her.   It must be something important out there.

   Meghan spoke soft and mechanical, only cracking the slightest at the end.   "I could tell you that this hotel with its age was made with hot rolled high-carbon steel I-beams, all prefabricated in Pittsburgh, and are held together with thousands of both rivets and bolts.   I could tell you the ASTM standards for dozens of types of steel used today, and for copper, brass, aluminum and titanium.   I could talk for hours about wielding torches and benders alone.   You know why there are so many types of steel?   You can make steel so hard it's brittle, or soft for wire, or springy, or so it won't rust and die, or so it can take the heat.   There is no one type that can do it all.   Steel isn't perfect.   It's heavy and stubborn to change once it's found its way.   Steel breaks, oh God does it break, and makes a mess of everything."

   No one knew where Gary had gone yesterday, where he was now, or even if he planned to return, they just knew that her van had gone with him.   No one else would have considered it of any value, and no one else but he could have even gotten very far with the van under its own power.   Lea had volunteered to stay behind for reassurance, to neither Meghan's approval nor rejection.   Her presence was largely ignored that night, such as a fly clinging to the wall, her presence tolerated as long as she did not try to fly away.   Lea lingered as a silent witness to Meghan's bottled rage as she doodled on several sheets of the hotel notepad simultaneously, all the while flipping through the television stations, only to watch the pad fly in frustration and hit some actor square in the chest before double bouncing on the desk.   Wicked sounds came out and spits and bursts, Meghan's feelings towards Gary made plain.

   Meghan then became fascinated in the phone book for about an hour or so, and finally decided on a more familiar use, ordering a vegetarian, a meat covered, and a plain pizza, all large.   The delivery boy certainly got a little excited on arrival, more from seeing Meghan herself than the hundred dollar bill that was placed in his hand as the pizza boxes disappeared behind the door.   Lea nibbled while Meghan doubled up, wondering why she had bothered to stick around anyways, as if she didn't already know.   If Meghan really wanted something, Lea would just be swatted away.   But just being there for a friend, hopefully on that night it would be enough.

   Lea was finally to see the reward for this ordeal.   Meghan finally moved again, one arm stretch at a time.    "Does steel have anyone in particular in mind?"

   "Silver...you would be like silver."

   "Silver?!?   Why not gold?"

   "Silver is much more useful.   It gets things done, keeps things moving between people.   And besides, it gets a little tarnished from time to time."   Meghan managed a slight smile as she looked down at Lea.

   "OK, wait..."

   "What smells so good?"   Meghan sat up straight and stretched the lumbar of her back with all six of her arms.   Finally it was time for her to follow the nose.

   "I had breakfast brought up, it's a little cold now."

   "That's fine, I'll..."

   *knock, knock, knock*

   "Oh, shit!"   The bed frame creaked as Meghan startled badly.   She jumped up, taking three long steps to the door before stopping.   "Answer it!" she pointed and shooed Lea over, begging in a horse whisper.

   "No way!   I'm not going out there with this on...at least you have sweats on."

   "But...what if...   Fine..."

   It was her keys, and some poor teen bellboy that was brushed aside in her race outside.   It was many minutes later before Lea caught up with Meghan at the van, returned even to the same spot in the parking garage it had resided before, nothing taken from it or left behind; the gas tank was even topped off.   For hours, Meghan tried to methodically search for him up and down the surrounding allies, behind every filthy thing and down every sidewalk in nothing more than her familiar, and now filthy, torn-up sweats, unsupported underneath and barefoot.   Meghan herself looked little better, her fiery curls now matted, the freckles of her hands and feet indistinguishable from the grime of the city.   Lea tried to keep up, three steps to one, and in high heels until she found a shoe store, only to have to catch up all over again in formal office attire and white sneakers.   Together they scanned hundreds of faces with no luck.   A business suit, or a just a nice collared shirt and Khaki's, a tee-shirt and worn jeans, or ragged military surplus, anyone of these could bare his face.   Who would notice just another body?   No one, but everyone took note of her.   The incident was made into another story for a media joyful with glee:   Moors loses it!   Handlers give up!

   "I don't know what I would have done if I have found him, hugged him or punched him out!"   Meghan leaned back against an armrest of the sofa, Her hair in a towel and her body in a robe, this one she had 'modified' for her own use.   She rubbed one of her own feet hoisted over the other knee.

   "At least you know he's back now."   Lea had taken the chair, and tried to soak her own foot at a time in a champagne bucket full of hot water and ebsom salt.   "Can I use the shower now?   The stink in some of those places..."

   "Do I?   He probably rode the next train out, hiding in a box car."

   "I think he stayed," Lea shrugged.   "He's just getting over the hurting you put on him.   Guys are like that, they hide to lick their wounds when they are hurt."

   "No, he just wanted to return the van before he went.   He just couldn't be in MY debt, no...Grey, the honorable bum," Meghan sighed, her last words almost leaking out with the last of her breath.

   "Like a Ronin."

   "I don't know, whatever.   He just got fed up along with everyone else."   But there was a long pause between her statements that came to something.   "God damn, pavement is hard!" Meghan switched legs, accidentally rocking the glass coffee table almost to the point of no return before its feet settled back into its own carpet depressions.   "Owww..."

   "If your right, if he is an honorable man, he would have to still be in town.   He couldn't leave, he has to testify still."

   "Maybe, I don't know.   He was...you never saw him before all of this.   That first month...I trusted him with my life.   You only saw what he was like afterwards, manipulating everything in the shadows...do you think he had it in him?"

   "For you, and he always had a plan, he never did anything that wasn't to plan.   That plan was acquitting you.   That's all he has done for the last six months."

   "And the one constant in his life was running away when things got too hard."

   "Seriously, what is wrong with you?"   Lea had stood to switch feet in the bucket, but remained standing for what little affect it could possible lend her dainty frame, a hand on her hip, the other wagging at Meghan.   Her temper exaggerated every motion.   "Gary was devoted to you, and you hate him for it.   Was he not good enough for you, or did you just decide that you weren't good enough for him?   Do you hate yourself so much?"

   "You little bitch..."

   "Sit back down!   You are going to listen to this.   I don't have to put up with this.   I'm not getting paid for it.   You needed a friend, and stupid me comes to the rescue like I always do.   I have watched you, taken care of you like one of my little sisters."

   "I never asked you to!   I'm not listening!"   Meghan appeared if possible to shrink at this as she slid into the sofa.   Her arms left her feet, and crossed all in sequence, squeezing her broad chest, and the most ridiculous pout was put on her lips as she pretended to ignore Lea.

   "Oh grow up!   You didn't have to.   It's what friends do."

   "You want to leave too don't you?!?"

   "No! And neither did he!   But you threw him out!   You did it, for whatever reason.   You probably don't even know why...all he was guilty of was caring about you."

   "He invaded my home..."

   "And if you ask me, you needed someone to shake you out of your tree!   I've got to go..."

   "I knew it!   You hate me too!"

   "No, I have a life to take care of before Monday.   You have your own money for anything you might need.   You want to drive everyone off, here you go."

   "Please...take me with you."

   "No, even if you could fit in my Yarus."

   "I'm sorry..." Meghan melted off of the sofa onto her knees, sitting nearly on her ankles to lunge at Lea as she tried to leave, wrapping her six arms weakly around Lea's tiny body and legs.   For once, Lea stood taller, if not by much, and her anger became pity.   She hugged Meghan around the neck.

   "I'll be back in the morning to get you ready."   Meghan was silent as Lea untangled herself from the embrace.   Lea grabbed her purse, slinging it over her shoulder before grabbing her briefcase with same hand, her other full as well with a pair of heels and sneakers suspended by their laces.   "Can you...uh...help me with the door?"   The door locked itself in front of her, and for a long time Meghan stood at the door, wilted.   "I'm sorry...please come back....I'm sorry...please...."

   The media had gathered itself together, and through the flagellation of themselves and each other had decided that David Goldstein would need another bit of dramatics up his sleeve if he expected to win this case.   Truth be told, he had found little to play. Everything had happened in the span of ten minutes, on a holiday, and in an area of town where bullets had replaced 'hello' as the dominate form of communication.   The residents along with the police just had found little memorable about the crime as it happened that night.   This same judge had a backlog of dozens of cases, indeterminable from this one except for the date, and that one other thing.   All David could do was attack was the motive, and this motive was pinned on hate; the hate was expressed in the act of setting a man of fire.   This was where he would start.

   The murmur in the courtroom that Monday had attained high tide, lapping off of Meghan even then at its peak.   She wished it was this that bothered her this morning, but instead it was a grey haired man with a soiled beard, his form old and weathered, who was sitting in the seat that Grey had used every day last week.   She had hoped, she had prayed, the fates mocked.

   ' "So, on the night in question, you testified that you heard a single gunshot?"

   "Yeahs."

   "But you did not go and investigate the source or to see if anyone had been shot?"

   "owt 'ere, en Philly, et 'apeens, et's bad.   I 'ave to keep mi chil'ren safe."

   "Or were you not even sure if it was a gun shot?   Was it instead a backfire from the getaway van?"

   "I no tink so."

   "But are you one-hundred percent sure?"

   "No." '

   ' "Using the footage supplied by the storefront security camera to determine the position of the van, the trajectory of the recovered round would be consistent with someone firing from the far side of this van, possibly from kneeling or sitting position as the van itself would have been in the position of a man standing while firing.   The round itself was a 9mm."

"So, it was a pistol round.   Why did the police not find it?"

"I don't know, but it was lodged some sixteen feet up the building.   It's reasons like this why people hire me to begin with."

   "And when did you find this round?"

   "Two weeks after the incident."   Judging by the lack of weathering surrounding the impact, it had been recently fired." '

   ' "The fabric of the back seat of the van had been scrubbed nearly clean with detergents, but the foam cushioning underneath was found to contain remnant blood, which on analysis was proven to be Gary Freeman's.   He would have been bleeding in several places or from one severe wound to have left blood in such a widespread area."

   "Was there anything else of interest?"

   "Yes, the electrical system to the central panel of the van was in disrepair, meaning that the radio, the ventilation controls, and the cigarette lighter were all malfunctioning at best if they even worked at all." '

    So this was it.   There were a couple more witnesses, others that would testify to the character of someone that they had only known by phone, some testimony and a few minor pieces of evidence against Meghan's accusers.   Hopefully enough to start chipping away at the narrow foundation of the case against his client, a reticent woman who had managed to draw no attention to herself for all these years.   It was a shame that there was no one else would come forward to take the stand for her, the isolation a two-edged sword.

   An isolation that consumed her as David dropped her off at the hotel.   Alone Meghan walked across the grand Roman lobby to the elevators, not even the media bothered her there anymore.   A well-to-do family politely declined her invitation to join her on the elevator, even as she held the door open for them.   The electronic lock greeted her with a whirr as she opened the door to her room, the only sound that would.   She was alone at last.

   There were not enough man-made distractions to divert her attentions away from every thud and scuff that passed near her door that night, each a moment of excitement that only served to drive her lower.   Meghan wished that David would have stopped at a book store on the way here, a good read would be so much better than this.   She finally ate, but could not sleep.   She did not even want to.

   Meghan redressed herself in one of her nice blouses, a pink rose one that seemed too much for the courtroom, and that dark blue skirt which rode up just above her knees, the one which she had sworn to never, ever wear.   At a time where the civilized people were tucked away, Meghan walk through the middle of that lobby with a swaying step, trying to be noticed as she passed into the sleek open space of the bar near the front entrance.   There she sat balanced between two low backed bar stools, constantly tugging at the edges of her skirt.   She had come to be noticed, and to care less about it.

   "White wine, please."   She quickly realized that she was wasting time.   "Tequila." She knew that was strong.   Punishment was good for the soul.

   One shot, then another, she wasn't counting.   Meghan watched the candle light and the red hue of the paneled lighting play off of glass, the marbled walls and furniture of Roman twist, and the skin of the people around her.   Did anyone care about her?   "Another."   It was not working.   "You have anything stronger?"   She was handed some dark liquid.

   "More."   This was not working either, excepting the pain as it burned her throat.   Just one moment of forget.   Meghan slid one leg off of the side of one stool; one unparallelled leg that the stool was supposed to keep suspended from the floor.   One blessed moment without a lifetime of regrets nipping at her body.   She thought about opening her blouse a bit. Just one moment to feel again.   It was not going to happen here.   "How much do I owe you?"

   "Nothing, just take the bottle and go, just go."   This plea stung more than it should have, and that strangely made Meghan feel better.   She took the bottle by the neck in one hand and stood, disgusted at how steady she was, throwing a wad of crumpled cash at the bartender and flipping her fiery curls back away from her eyes.   She was the only one left, no one else had dared to stay, and she had nowhere to go.

   Meghan would climb, the bottle drug loosely behind by a dangling hand, up twenty-two flights of stairs to her room, marking each floor with a long draught.   If alcohol alone would not work, perhaps teamed with exhaustion, it did not.   At the nineteenth floor she reconsidered the bottle itself, if she used it across own fat ugly head.   At the twenty-sixth floor she remembered a song she liked as a teenager, before everything had all come to this.   She continued to climb to the final floor, where an old door, no doubt flimsy from the obvious rust, bared her way.

   "It would not take much to look at the stars, to reach out and touch them.   One final act of defiance, and the earth to claim her, then to become a star."   Meghan ran her fingers down the rough, cold steel of the door, and the warm, smooth glass she had drug up thirty flights with her, eyes somewhere in between.   "The hell with you!"   Glass shattered on the guardrail, razor shards raining down several flights of steps while its dark remnants dripped down slowly from pipe to paint flecked pipe.

   Wake up, another day, get it together, bathroom, deodorant, underwear, still no word about Grey.   Grab the Slacks, leg, leg; now the blouse, arm, arm, arm...dammit, switch holes, arm and the other arm, arm, arm.   Answer that phone, just checking in, coffee, coffee, coffee.   What happened to me last night?   Socks, shoes, dress jacket, all together now.   See, it's just another day.   Just take it one thing at a time.

    David had nothing left but to put Meghan on the stand.   It was only half of their counter-narrative of that night, but it was all he had left.   It would have to be enough. Once some confusion surrounding how she would take the oath was settled, David ran her quickly through her childhood, and the fears that forced her into isolation.   The pace would slow as she recounted the first time she had encountered Grey, and the intimate details of their relationship became a matter of public record.   Old habits from those times begged to resurface, instead she sat on her lower four hands, and her chair creaked, and she feared that this one two was about to give way, so she stood for the rest of her testimony.   It as personal, all too personal, and she held back nothing.   Her voice retained its calm.   She had faith that David had a reason for all of this.

   ' "We had fought that night on the way back...about the future.   I wanted him to be something he couldn't.   He panicked...I guess...and pulled off of the freeway to where everything happened.   He was determined to leave me there.   I got desperate."

   "Why?"

   "I didn't want to be abandoned out there for anyone to find me.   I didn't know how I was going to get home."

   "You know how to drive, correct?"

   "Yes."

   "Then why not just drive home?"

   "I couldn't, I was scared."

   "Of what?"

   "Of this, of all of you, of all of these people behind you, and all the people, in truth, behind them.   The way you would treat me if someone saw me and what might happen to me.   The fact that I'm sitting here accused is all the excuse that you need to sleep tonight after robbing my soul a strip at a time.   I knew my life would be over."

   "So you wanted to hide?"

   "Yes!"

   "You could have hid in the van?"

   "I tried to..."

   "Why didn't you?"

   "Grey...I mean Gary was attacked by these men, he was hurt.   I had to stop it."

   "Why, because he was the only one that could get you home?"

   "No..."

   "Then why?"

   "Because I love him.   I loved him then.   I still love him.   Nothing else mattered at that moment but him."

   "Not your own safety, or your anonymity?"

   "No.   He would have done the same for me.   He tried to protect me until he was stabbed in the stomach.   I could not leave him there to die, no matter what.   I fought; I protected him; I took him home.   Nothing else mattered.   If I was 'one of you,' and used a club, or a gun, would any of you care enough to be here?   If you were in my place that night, and had a weapon, would you have left it behind when someone you loved was beaten to death?   I did not choose to be this way anymore than anyone else." '

   ' "So you decided to take out your own justice on these men?"

   "No, I was protecting another, who was going to be killed by your men."

   "Mam, I don't know these men.   I represent justice in this city, not you."

   "And your city wasn't there for us.   I had no phone.   There were no police, no pay phones.   What was I supposed to do?"

   "Evidently take it out on them.   Put one through a building, set one on fire in you race to judgement."

   "Objection!"

   "Sustained."

   "They had knives, and a gun.   They could kill."

   "And you could not?   Are these weapons in evidence?"

   "No, I don't know what they did with them, I had other priorities."

   "It just wasn't important to you.   Those men were just no threat to you, no matter what they had."

   "OBJECTION!"

   "I hate myself for what I did to them!   It's the last thing I think about every...single...night, and the first thing in the morning.   I could say that I don't remember what I did, like others...but it would be a lie.   I should have fought harder to control myself.   I was angry and scared.   Yes, the monster girl was scared, and desperate.   The only thing I was thinking about was Gary.   They were going to kill him."

   "So you admit your guilt?"

   "I was in love. You don't even look like you understand the phrase.   Have you even been in love?"

   "I'm not the one on trial here."

   "I makes you crazy.   It overflows your mind with possibilities you wouldn't dare think about before, and you do those things.   You find that there is someone out there who thinks so much better of you than you can allow yourself to even believe, and then to see him, and yourself too, bleeding on the pavement.   If I am guilty, then it is by insanity, because I went fucking nuts."

   "You admit that this level of violence was unnecessary then?   So what could have possible motivated you to this level..."

   "Gary was bleeding out.   Did I need another reason?   Those guys had attacked to kill."

   "And back to that in a moment.   There was no other reason?   These five men testified that they were just defending themselves, and to this date there has been no documentation of this phantom injury that left Freeman on death's door.   Perhaps you overreacted to the situation for another reason?   How much experience do you have with minorities?"

   "DA Fowler, you have been already been warned about this, strike those last two questions from the record."

   "OK, so if Gary Freeman was gravely injured, why was he not taken to a hospital?   There are no records of a stay at Harford Memorial or any other hospital within fifty miles of Philadelphia, Havre de Grace, or anywhere in between."

   "I did not take him to a hospital."

   "Then he must not have been seriously injured."

   "Yes, he was.   I was there."

   "Then you should have taken him to a hospital."

   "I should have, but he didn't want me to.   I took care of him myself."

   "How?   You must be a doctor in your spare time."

   "With my own blood."

   "Say what?   Repeat that please."

   "I was shot in the arm.   I used my own blood to heal him."

   "That's not normal, but what about you is, huh?   You are really going to testify that? Who here is going to this?   And let's see your scar from the bullet."

   "There is none, I heal very quickly, and very well."

   "So supposedly your miracle blood saved the day?   Very convenient."

   "Yes.   If you would like, I will get a knife to show you."

   "That will not be necessary.   I would rather see something scientific, but you don't have that do you?   I suppose that if Mr. Freeman were to be bothered enough to witness there would be no scar on him either..." '

   And so on it went throughout the day.   Meghan's voice, always low toned, sometimes quiet, put a lean into the audience, and even the jury, as she was compelled to bare nearly every naked detail.   Not a few were disappointed when the testimony ended without Meghan stepping over the box and choking out the district attorney.   Some would have stated in that same court that it was justified.   Every question became more provocative than the last, more personal.   But Meghan fought back with no more than her words; the last six months of fame had tempered her well.   Recess was called that afternoon along with the warning to the defense that they had better find their final witness or rest their case.

   Meghan walked to the hotel alone, still wearing her tailored outfit from court in the hot July weather, its coat slung over the shoulder of her cream, multi-sleeved button blouse.   Lea and David had offered her a ride to the hotel room, but she had declined the offer before they had even finished it.   If this was to be her one last day of freedom, she was going to enjoy it in defiance of society.   She soon found herself walking to nowhere, but still try to get there quickly.

   She would only notice a passerby anymore if he did not stare.   At least no one had yet dared ask questions.   No more questions at least, they knew it, or by now had guessed it all.   Even David had been so rude today.   She thought he at least actually cared, but remembered now that he had only done it for the pentenance and a big slice of fame.   Everyone would know him now through her, and she would not even recall a single one of these people.   On an impulse, Meghan ducked into a convenience store straight away, emerging with enough disposable cameras for every spare hand, and a few extra.   She unwrapped them all as she walked, accidentally almost toppling over some crazy guy handing out flyers.   For every stare, there would now be a photo to capture it, at least while the film held out.

   But where to go?   She wanted to find the zoo.   Certainly there must be one in a city of this size, to see her fellows and her fate.   If she only knew where the zoo was. Would it be good old fashioned hot-rolled bars, or Plexiglas that awaited her?   Maybe she should be shipped away to area 51 with all the aliens that they experimented on, if there even were aliens.   There were stranger things on this earth than those little green Martians.   At least there weren't circuses so much anymore.

   Meghan tried to recall the tune of that song again she had heard years ago, something about walking streets, alone and lonely with or in a city, or something.   Why she had never done things like that, not even a simple song, or a stupid show?   The normal things that everyone else did seemed so beneath her.   She had kept a radio, and a TV, even these seemed as invaders after a while, and went dormant.   Everything but her computer and her phone, these she had to keep using it to sell her art.   Her computer really had evolved into her only lifeline, with its little seams, not even niches, for everyone to feel safe in no matter how strange, and could be turned off if anyone got too close.   Maybe instead she should go watch a movie, if she knew what was on.   But wait, this was Philadelphia, and there were better things to do here.

   Meghan reversed course back towards the courthouse, and walked to Independence Hall to catch the final tour of the day, standing and walking with her fellow tourists and the school children, to witness something else unique in the world as another one of them.   Meghan wandered the blocks surrounding her, the squares and their statues, the historical buildings, buildings containing history.   One of these buildings included a defective, and for that unique, little bell that meant so much more.   She lingered long into the night.   What was left that she could she fear in the darkness?

   Meghan closed the hotel door softly behind her, hoping, even as she was trying to avoid, a scolding for her rebellious outing.   But she knew better, they had all run away again.   Her jacket was hung away to await the morning, while she began to unbutton her blouse, removing its tails and unclasping her bra, her eyes tracing something in the texture of the wall.   A hot shower was foremost on her mind.   This by far the longest she had ever been in a suit, even as form fitting as it was on her shapely body.   Something about it still made her feel uncomfortable.

   "Young lady, I really don't like to be kept waiting, but you are indeed worth every moment.   The anticipation has made it exquisite."   A voice made her spin around towards the sofa.   The curls of her fiery hair, now six months longer, fell slightly over one shoulder of a blouse half opened, newly bared flesh widening the bridgehead, great swells overflowing from what still remained concealed underneath.   Even the finest tailor could only fashion a blouse that played down the many robust curves of her arms and chest which flowed underneath to such a slim waist, hidden underneath a now untucked hemline.   It left you lusting to know how such size was supported above such an economy of space.   Slacks of such incredible size and length, and yet managed to do their job only adequately, so much sensuous, hard sculpted flesh to be borne underneath.   The muscles of her body trembled, muscle threatening to burst through the fine fabric which clothed her.

   It was an old and rough voice, but familiar in some way, as was the man behind it, relaxed on the sofa like he owned it as well.   He was a taller man, clean shaven and possessing a head of hair that you questioned was always his.   This was a man who had enjoyed his many pleasures and privileges for many decades.   From his own suit to the bottle of fine cognac that waited with him on the coffee table.    It was evident he had been sipping on a glass or three of it for some time.

   "I know who you are."   Her many arms still remained in a poise of half dress, not knowing what to do.

   "Of course you do.   Garrison Freeman, now senior, but you can call me Gary.   I thought I should interrupt.   We do not need to go there, yet."

   "Who let in you my hotel room?"    Her top arms crossed her chest, squashing cloth and flesh together.   The others clenched her hips in offense.   "And why shouldn't I break you in half."

   "YOUR hotel room?   Oh, but that's great...let’s go with that."

   "Get out!"

   "Look lady, I've spent a lot of time waiting here.   Wouldn't you like to know why?"

   "I don't care."   Meghan grabbed him by the arm and half lifted him up, intending to throw him out by the door, or window.   He did not flinch either, which nearly put her in a rage.

   "Why do you think I'm here, and by here, 'your' very room?   'Little lady', I'm here because I can be.   I can go where I want, speak with who I want, get done what I want. That is why I'm here tonight.   I want something, and conversely I can deliver something. Would you like a drink?   You need to relax a bit, with all the strain you are under.   I bought a bottle of the cheap stuff, two-hundred dollars for this flask alone."

   "I think I can guess the rest.   My freedom, you hang the jury...get me off on a technicality..."   She dropped him.   Despite herself, she had to hear what he said.   Anyway, he was the only one that had bothered to be here.   He leaned back deep into the sofa, his arms resting across its back.

   "I already have, and I know the judge.   Or if your guilt compels you to atone for your sins, you can do that for a few months at one of those beautiful minimum security prisons with no irons except on the golf course, until everyone moves onto the next victim, and forgets your name.   My people are just waiting for my word."

   "And you want me, right?   You sick little fuck…"   She took a step away, her hands balling into fists.

   "Yes, but not so...carnally.   Believe me, you are the most decadent icing on my cake, and I will have you as well too, eventually.   It's my son I want right now.   I bought his body, now I'm going to take the only thing he cares about.   I want his spirit."

   "What are you talking about?   Grey hated you!"

   "You really don't know do you?   Oh my, this is precious, the innocence." He grinned a greedy, toothy little grin, and took a long drink.   "I've spent my life amassing power.   Once you rise to this level, you find little that you can't have...or do.   Those rare, unique things out of reach are the only things you find wanting.   It's the pursuit that keeps you alive.   No one escapes it.   And you, my precious thing, are worth having.   I want to save you from the jetsam and flotsam, and put you where you deserve to be.   You are beautiful, oh so beautiful..."

   "Gray escaped..."   Her arms fell limp, and her blouse opened again.   She could not stop listening to him, even with the little voice screaming in her ear.

   "Bullshit.   Did he tell you that?   He had to eat still.   He had his desires, you for one.   I watched him on the television do his thing, things that I taught him, and he made a piece of me proud.   He calls me a monster, I made him, and I should get out what I invested into him.   You saw it too.   Was he such a great guy?   In reality, he was no better than us monsters.   Where is he now?   Where is your white night?   No, it's the monsters that have to look out for one another."

   "I don't know."   It was all too reasonable.   She had nothing wrong and she was about to be imprisoned for a long time.   Exhausted by his very words, she sat in the chair diagonal to him, but she could not bare to watch him anymore, and he continued.

   "Exactly my point."   Garrison rose calmly; it was time to drive home his point.   "You are a powerful woman, full to your considerable brim with talent and intelligence that no one else truly sees.   Let me show you the potential of power.   I will free you, and give you whatever you need, and all I ask in return is an association with you, a reciprocation of my generosity, and to add your power to my own.   I am not the devil.   In time you will see things my way, and thank me.   I promise that.   And you will come to me on your own free will.   Then you will make me very happy."

   "I will think about it...go..."

   "Remember, you only have the night.   Tomorrow may be too late."